


Crawling Home

by AmberGrove



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Betaed, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Sorry About It, Strangers to Lovers, also technically, jas move into the farmhouse challenge, literally just for jas, shane is a simp, six heart event, technically, you could make a religion out of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberGrove/pseuds/AmberGrove
Summary: A quick songfic exploring the evolution of the relationship between Shane and the farmer, checking in at different stages in their relationship, accompanied with lyrics from Work Song by Hozier.Or, two mutually pining disasters receive the happy ending they deserve.
Relationships: Shane/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66





	Crawling Home

_Boys, workin' on empty_

_Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?_

_I just think about my baby…_

Shane snorted, taking a brief pause from the oh so laborious task of stacking cans of beans on the shelf in front of him to yank out his earphones. The soft crooning that continued to emanate from them now hanging limply around his neck curled his stomach into knots, the familiar heat of bile rising in his throat- although, to be fair, he was uncertain if the song itself was entirely to blame. It could have easily been lingering remnants of the night before, the burning fluorescent lights ahead, or some unholy combination of all three that was pressing heavily on his temples.

There was something sickly about love songs that the man couldn’t stand. Being able to love someone so innately was something he never could wrap his head around, the idea of such overwhelming tenderness at odds with the walls that he was so used to building. And when that warmth flowed over into dedicating an entire melody to the object of your affection, recorded and published for the world to see- he felt like an unwanted onlooker, intruding into a space he didn’t belong, one that was private between two people who understood.

It was a feeling that had rushed to the forefront at the Stardrop the previous night as he sat by the bar, nursing a pint of beer. Leah had quickly befriended the new farmer in town- something about both living off the land, foraging for mushrooms together- and the two were seated by the jukebox, swaying to the music as they shared a pizza. He remembered little else but the farmer’s beaming smile as the two of them sang along, slices of pizza used as makeshift microphones. It was a smile that stopped the world in its tracks, the kind of all encompassing joy that gave onlookers no choice but to return its mirth- sickly sweet, perhaps, and a touch too optimistic for his taste, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to learn a little more about that smile and the stranger who wore it. So when his fingers itched to turn the song off, he abstained from doing so, closing his eyes for a brief moment and putting himself in the farmers shoes, hoping to understand through the music how one person could hold so much happiness.

A cough sounded from somewhere down the aisle and he jumped, looking around as if gathering his bearings, having forgotten for a moment that he was still crouched on the scuffed linoleum floor of JojaMart. His gaze settled on Morris- haughty, smug, vain Morris, the smirk on his face causing Shane’s skin to crawl.

“No slacking off on the job, Shane. This is your only warning before I dock your pay.” The man admonished, the self-satisfaction dripping from his every word enough to make Shane want to pitch the can he had picked up directly at the man’s annoyingly quiffed head as he retreated from view.

‘What a fucking dick,’ he thought to himself, turning with great reluctance back to the menial task at hand, the song- and the farmer- all but forgotten.

~~

_When, my, time comes around_

_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth_

Shane’s feet skimmed the surface of the lake as he took another swig from his can of beer, mind laden with drunken fog and heavy thoughts. The tips of his sneakers were damp where he kicked at the water and the cold was slowly seeping into his socks, but he couldn’t quite muster up enough energy to care.

That was a problem for sober Shane to worry about. Sober Shane had a lot of problems to worry about, these days.

From somewhere behind him the wooden boards creaked, alerting him to the fact that someone else had joined him on the pier. Part of him prepared for the lecture he would inevitably receive from his aunt for being up so late drinking- she meant well and he knew it, but that didn’t take the sting out of her words- his tense shoulders only partially relaxing when he realised it was instead the farmer who had come to sit down next to him.

“Up late, huh?” He questioned, wincing slightly at the way his syllables had started running into one another. Either the farmer didn’t notice or pretended not to, taking the beer he offered her without a second thought and cradling it between her hands. She opened her can and took a small sip just as he reached for another one, letting out a long sigh before answering his question.

“Some stupid crows took a liking to my crops. I’ve been gathering resources for more scarecrows all day.” She huffed as a means of explanation, and he nodded as if he understood, taking a long swig of his beer.

“Buh...life.” He agreed, and the two of them fell into a surprisingly companionable silence as the two of them stared over the lake. He hadn’t often heard her speak of life on the farm, though he supposed it wasn’t for lack of trying; he had been less than hospitable towards her when she had first moved into town, even telling her directly that he had no desire to speak to her. But she, in turn, had been just as stubborn, going out of her way to say hello to him in the Saloon or on his way to work, greeting him with a smile and very one-sided conversations. He wondered how that felt like, to speak so freely, unperturbed by the judgement of others- his tongue was often dead weight in his mouth, only spurred to moving when he needed to order a drink or had consumed enough of the stuff to not think before sentences came tumbling out.

It seemed as though this night fell quite squarely into the latter category, as words gathered and fell unbidden from his lips faster than he could think of stopping them.  
“You ever feel like...no matter what you do, you’re gonna fail?” He began, driving the toe of his sneaker into the surface of the lake and watching the water droplets soar through the air. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shift her body to face him better, equal parts curiosity and intrigue settling over her features like a fine shawl.

“Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss and you’re so deep you can’t even see the light of day?” He closed his eyes as he spoke so that he wouldn’t have to see the pity he knew would be overtaking her expression. Just like everybody else. His shoulders were tense once more, every breath a question, uncomfortably vulnerable as he spilled his soul out onto the weathered timber between them.

“I just feel like no matter how hard I try...I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole.” 

His words hung in the air. The faraway hoot of an owl was all that he got in response to his impromptu speech, and he was just about to tell her to forget about it, to up and leave before he could make even more of a fool of himself- that was until she reached for him, the sudden feeling of her fingers lacing through his enough to send shivers down his spine. When was the last time someone had held his hand like this? Had willingly shown him affection without treating him like a pile of broken glass they had to sweep up, like a stain on the town’s reputation that they were all ashamed of?

“I’ll toss you a ladder,” she joked, her words cutting through the muted tones of their conversation, and the wind sighed through the trees as the pressure finally evaporated from his shoulders. “I’m here for you, Shane. Every step of the way.”

Her every syllable dripped with earnest and it was all he could do to stifle the choked sob that threatened to burst from his lungs. His hand felt heavy in her own and it was all he could do to give it a gentle squeeze of thanks, pulling away to get to his feet and gather up the empty cans he had strewn about the pier. 

“Welp..my liver’s beggin’ me to stop. Better call it a night.” And if she noticed the reasoning for his sudden shift in conversation, she didn’t comment on it, instead standing up and aiding him in cleaning up the pier. 

“I’ll see you around, Shane.” She told him with a smile, offering a brief wave before pivoting on her heel and walking back towards the lake’s edge. It was all he could do to stand there and watch her disappear into the dark, swaying ever so slightly, words echoing between his ears with no small amount of awe. She had sounded so sure, so certain in her farewell- almost like a promise.

He found himself hoping it was a promise.

~~

_Boys, when my baby found me_

_I was three days on a drunken sin_

It was pouring, but Shane couldn’t find it in himself to move.

His vision swam as if he were underwater, the rain soaked fabric of his hoodie doing nothing to abet the feeling of drowning. The side of his face was pressed to the dirt, the cold seeping into his skin, and a twisted part of his mind hoped that the earth would just open up and swallow him whole to save him from the cyclical disaster of his own suffering.

With immense effort he lifted one leaden arm in an attempt to shelter his face from the rain, a confused grunt escaping him when the familiar downpour didn’t meet his skin. His legs were still being pelted with rain, but for some reason his upper torso was sheltered, and he rubbed his eyes for a minute to try and chase some of the bleariness from them.

From somewhere above him came a voice and he angled his head to try and see who it was, thick clumps of mud sticking to his skin. He could just barely make out a face, his gaze unfocused and brow furrowed- the knowledge of who it was slipped through his fingers like sand, their voice murky as it reached him.

They tried again to say something, a fresh wave of despair overwhelming Shane as the words evaporated before his eyes. He squeezed them shut like a child throwing a tantrum- a small part of his brain that wasn’t completely inebriated thought of Jas- and he rolled back onto his side, rain once again hailing down on his head and torso. He found himself holding back the urge to throw up even as he threw his head back to the clouds. The stranger sat down next to him as he started hurling abuse at the sky, daring the clouds themselves to part and offer him his deliverance. Venom ran from his tongue as hard and as fast as the rivulets of rain down his face as he bemoaned his life and all that had led him to this point. It was pointless. _He_ was pointless. He wouldn’t be out of place at the bottom of the cliffs, amongst the empty cans and soiled plastic bags that lived down there, but he still couldn’t bring himself to rouse his weary bones from where they lay. 

The person next to him shifted, and an expanse of black once again protected part of him from the rain. He glanced up at them as they moved, and as they drew closer all of his previous anger ran cold.

He knew that face. 

Or, at least, he thought he did; he had never seen the farmer’s gaze this anguished, nor had he ever seen her sun-pinked cheeks so wet with what he hoped beyond hope to be rain. He opened his mouth and words spilled out in a jumbled stream; pleas of “I’m sorry” and “forgive me” accompanying every breath. She let him beg for a while, the hand that wasn’t tightly gripping her umbrella moving to gently cup his face, and he leaned all his weight into it like a lifeline. This time, when she spoke up, he clearly heard the words “clinic” and “help” interspersed within her words.

It was all he could do to gather enough energy to nod in response, holding tightly to her arm as she hauled him to his feet. Suddenly being upright caused static to take over his vision, and he leaned heavily onto the farmer as she half-carried him away from the edge of the cliff.

He was only a little upset about that.

~~

_But I swear, I thought I dreamed her_

_She never asked me once about the wrong I did_

“She saved you, Shane. You should visit her.” The doctor’s words echoed in his head as he stood on the porch of the farmhouse, staring apprehensively at the door as if the wood itself had cracked into a grotesque mouth and started hurling insults in his direction. 

His memories of the night before were as addled as the mud that caked his clothes, most having been pumped out of him along with the bile that Harvey had removed from his stomach. Despite the doctor’s words, Shane was operating under the assumption that ending up in front of his office was a fluke, that perhaps he had collapsed nearby after leaving the Stardrop; it made more sense to him than memories of lying by the cliffside, a blurry face above him, and then nothing. What sense did it make for her to have been there? Was he simply hoping that someone was there for him when he needed them most, reaching desperately towards even a morsel of affection after being denied it for so long?

If she was there, he had to know. Both to thank her, and to ask why.

Before he could lose his nerve he knocked on the timber, vehemently ignoring the part of his brain that whispered to him to run, to leave her to sleep and pretend like he was never there, to keep his distance like he did so well with the rest of the town- but she was a farmer, used to being awake in the early hours of the morning, and he was granted no such reprieve from his problems when the door swung open and they were suddenly face to face.

“Oh, Shane. Hi.” She greeted him, though she seemed more guarded than usual as she crossed her arms over her chest, a fact that caused his heart to sigh in his chest for reasons he didn’t want to think about for fear of what he’d discover there. 

“Hey…” He repeated, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the worn floorboards of the porch. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment as he wrestled with what to say, and she didn’t seem like she would be the first to break it, either. The words stuck in his throat, feeling stilted and uncertain, and Shane found himself wishing for a drink to loosen up a bit- but then he met her gaze, and reminded himself he didn’t need it. Not anymore.

“I’m really sorry about what happened at the cliffs. That was… embarrassing…” His words were punctuated with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. Apologising wasn’t something he was good at, and he felt the overwhelming urge to run again before she reached for him, grasping his spare hand between her own in a manner that was starting to feel familiar.

“Shane…” She began, speaking his name with such tenderness it caused a heat to begin to prickle behind his eyes, “you have nothing to apologise for, okay? I’m just happy you’re still here.”

“Wow, it was that serious, huh? I can hardly remember…” He chuckled slightly, though the sound was hollow; the realisation that it had been her with him the night before had sent him reeling, for he was so sure that he had imagined her. This was a kindness he wasn’t used to, after all. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had reacted like this, offering him support without demonising his actions, a multitude of questions poised on accusing tongues.

He absently moved to interlace their fingers, giving her hand three gentle squeezes almost on instinct. Her words played on repeat in his mind as he mulled them over, dissecting them for even an ounce of resentment but finding none. “I’ve decided I want to see a therapist,” he spoke suddenly. “Harvey got me in touch with a colleague of his…”

And if he had known how she would perk up at the mere mention of him getting help, he would have agreed with the doctor on seeing a shrink months ago. She squeezed his hand tightly in return, her previously guarded nature gone, smile bright enough to rival the sun. “Shane! I’m so proud of you!” She gushed, letting go of his hand and instead holding her arms out, where he fell into her embrace like a man starved.

She was solid, dependable, the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed grounding him as he hid his face in her shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he finally choked out, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to prevent tears from spilling over. 

He felt her smile against his temple, lips ghosting over his skin in a fleeting kiss. “Anytime, Shane. Anytime.”

And he believed her.

With her by his side, he felt like he could take on the world.

~~

_No grave can hold my body down_

_I’ll crawl home to her_

The crate lurched in his arms, and it was all Shane could do to make sure the precious cargo he was carrying didn’t go tumbling to the ground in a flurry of feathers and indignant quacking. 

“A’ight, relax, we’re here.” He grumbled in the general direction of the ducks in the box, setting them down on the porch with an exasperated sigh and making a bit of a show out of dusting himself down. While Shane was exceptionally good with chickens, ducks were a completely different kettle of poultry that he had no idea how to deal with. His aunt knew this, of course, but didn’t take his grumbling for an answer as she ushered him out the door with the feathered things earlier in the morning, a knowing smile on her face as if she was privy to information that he wasn’t.

He raised his knuckles to rap on the front door, but before he made contact he heard the farmer call out to him from somewhere behind him in the fields. Turning to face her as she approached he couldn’t help the smallest of smiles from appearing on his face; the rays of the sun seemed to caress her skin and envelop her in an amber embrace, lighting her up in a way that he knew the artists of the town could only ever dream of capturing.

“I see you bought my new children,” she beamed once she was within speaking distance, crouching down so that she was eye level with the crate. Shane couldn’t help but let out a small groan, shaking his head slightly. 

“What good is a duck going to be when you’ve already got chickens for your eggs?” He questioned, cursing himself once the words had left for how abrupt that had sounded; the farmer, however, didn’t flinch, a fact he attributed to the two of them increasingly spending more time together. “Why do you keep cows when you have goats to get your milk from?” She shot back, a smug smile on her face as he blinked, looking exactly like a deer in headlights.

“You’ve been spending too much time ‘round me if you’re sassing people like that,” he retorted instead, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. His quip earned a playful scoff from the farmer as she stood, picking up the crate and gesturing to the farmhouse with her chin. “The doors unlocked. Make yourself at home, I’ll get these babies settled in and then start on coffees or something.”

This was a relatively new development- the first time she had offered him to stay back after a delivery for a bite to eat his heart had nearly jackhammered out of his chest. The offer still lit his nerve endings on fire but he was getting a lot better at ignoring it, instead nodding in response and stepping inside the building as she carried her new animals to the coop.

The farmhouse was starting to feel familiar to him now; he knew that out of the three chairs around the kitchen table she preferred to sit in the one facing the front door, and her new dog’s favourite napping spot was on the armchair by the window because of the way the sunlight warmed the cushions in the afternoon, and he was quite fond of the potted flowers in the corner of the living room since he and Jas had picked them out for the farmer on her first Feast of the Winter Star-

The thought crashed over him like a wave. He hadn’t intended on inserting himself into her space like this, but once the idea took root in his mind he couldn’t stop thinking about it; how he would fit into the kitchen, bacon sizzling on the stove as she ducked around him to make a pot of coffee. The way they’d settle on the couch after a long day of working on the land, leaning into each other, unwinding with The Queen of Sauce reruns. Each scenario left him feeling more breathless than the last, an overwhelming sense of longing taking over his system. 

The sound of the door opening broke through his spiralling and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing the colour out of his cheeks before he turned around so that she wouldn’t notice and ask him what was wrong. “Hey, Shane? Can you hold these for me?” She asked, and he could practically hear her batting her eyelashes as he finally turned to face her. 

“Yeah, sure-” His vision was immediately filled with an almost assaulting assortment of multi coloured flowers. For a moment he thought they could have been grown on the farm, but the decided lack of dirt coupled with the ribbon around the stems dashed that hope.

It was a bouquet.

Fuck.

“These are- these are nice,” he swallowed thickly, putting all of his effort into trying not to let his voice waver as he regarded the flowers. He wondered if they were from Elliott; he knew the poet and the farmer talked often when she wandered down to the pier to fish. A small part of him wanted to kick the man’s door in, annoyed that someone else had come to the realisation that they liked the farmer before he had; but she was radiant, and kind, and everything that he wasn’t, and therefore wouldn’t be a stretch to think she had all of the eligible townspeople falling head over heels for her. “Who gave them to you?”

His question was met with a blank stare, her brow ever so slightly furrowed in confusion. The tiniest part of his brain that wasn’t busy going into mourning as a result of the flowers in his face idly noted how cute the little scrunch between her brows was, but he was quickly brought out of his lamenting when he was met with the surprising sound of laughter. 

“Pierre?” She giggled, wiping tears from her eyes with the collar of her tshirt. “Who else sells them around here?”

“Who else-” He swayed slightly, feeling the sudden need to sit down as the meaning of her words hit him. His heart sang with exultation as if it wasn’t just weeping in sorrow mere moments beforehand, the wild swinging from one extreme to another almost making him dizzy. “But then- so they’re for me?”

“They’re for you.” She affirmed, biting her lip ever so slightly as she watched him open and close his mouth like some sort of malfunctioning carnival game. The longer he was silent the more stressed she seemed to become, and he realised suddenly that he hadn’t actually said a single word of acceptance. His voice box, however, had decided that it would be a great time to die of shock and cease to function, letting out a pitiful kind of yelp before keeling over in his throat.

Coughing in an effort to kickstart his voice into working once more, he reached out to take the flowers from her, surprised at how real and tangible they felt between his hands. “I-” his voice cracked, swallowing harshly. “I- yes, thank you. I’ll, uh, take these,” he stammered, becoming more and more red with every passing second until he could have rivalled the peppers that she grew in the summer.

He had made a fool out of himself. Surely she’d ask for them back, realise what a mistake she had made-

But suddenly there were arms around his middle, the farmer leaning her head against his shoulder as she hugged him. “Great! I’m glad.” She breathed a sigh of relief, and he could practically feel her smile against his neck as he dropped the flowers to the ground in order to return her affections.

Why should he care for colourful petals, anyway? The bouquet was temporary, after all. This was hopefully forever.

~~

_If the Lord don't forgive me_

_I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me_

Shane had never been a religious man.

He had only approached an altar of Yoba twice in his life, and both of those times were after the death of someone near and dear to his heart. The existence of a higher power wasn’t something he had ever entertained, turning his back on the idea that there was something there to lean on in your time of need. He had been existing in a ‘time of need’ for the majority of his life. Where was Yoba when he needed them?

“Shane,” called out a voice, the soft cadence singing through the air like a hymn. His name had always been a sore topic- the irony of an atheist being named ‘gift from Yoba’ was not lost on him- but falling from her lips, his name sounded like a prayer, like something holy, something worth respecting.

He walked over to where she lay on the couch and took a seat in the corner, where she immediately moved to rest her head in his lap. Her hair haloed out around her head and he grazed her scalp with his fingertips, in awe of the quiet sigh it elicited in response. “It’s been a long day. Can we just...rest? Please?” She asked, and he didn’t even have to think before nodding in agreement. 

Her word was like scripture, and he was nothing if not dogmatic. He would stay there for as long as she would let him, content to just witness the way that the warmth of a flame from a nearby candle bathed her in gold, in presence of a living shrine. He wondered how many people would continue to visit Pierre’s to pray if they could ever see her like this.

He saw arched cathedral ceilings in the curve of her hips, solid and grounding pews in the set of her shoulders. Every breath she took was met with his reverence, awed that she was real, awed that he hadn’t simply dreamed her. 

He had never been a religious man, but she made a devotee out of him.

~~

_When, my, time comes around_

_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth_

“Shane, can you pass me the trowel?” 

The man in question glanced up from where he was filling in the gaps around a fencepost he had unceremoniously shoved into the earth. 

“Yeah, of course, give me a sec,” came his reply, shifting the dirt around to ensure the hole was completely filled in with dirt, giving the post a shove or two to ensure it was sturdy. Once he was satisfied with his work he flipped the tool and offered it handle-first to the farmer, who was working not too far off from him.

“Thank you,” she smiled as she took the trowel from him, and the mere sight of it threatened to take his breath away. The fact that he was capable of causing a smile as beautiful as hers and being on the receiving end of it so often was something that he vehemently hoped would never lose its novelty.

Seeing as his job was done he shuffled over to sit on the dirt next to her, watching as she gingerly planted a sapling into the freshly turned earth. “And that’s the last of them!” She singsonged, wiping her stained hands off onto her overalls, faltering once her gaze met his once more. The corner of her lips quirked up into the ghost of a grin, and even the slightest hint of it caused a warmth to blossom in his chest. 

“I know that look. What are you thinking?” She queried, raising a brow in his direction. 

Shane shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, reaching over to take her muddied hands into his own and pull her closer to him, earning a small bell of laughter in response. “That I would love to see Caroline’s face if you showed up to the ceremony tomorrow in those overalls.”

The farmer leaned her head against his shoulder, and he felt more than saw the small puff of amusement leave her lips, warm breath ghosting over his collarbone. She gently wormed one of her hands out of his to touch the mermaid’s pendant resting at the hollow of his throat, fingertips tracing over the dips and whorls of the shell. “Shane, she’s already freaking out at the fact that you’re getting married. Let’s not cause the poor woman any more stress.” She answered him sweetly, and his nose scrunched up in disgust, both as a result of her words and the flakes of dirt he could feel falling into the collar of his shirt.

“Yoba, when you put it that way…” He grumbled, thinly veiled amusement clear in his tone as he pressed a lingering kiss to the farmer’s forehead, gaze searching the farmland and coming to a stop once he spotted Jas skipping through the grass. She was excitedly pursuing Charlie in a modified game of tag, and the chicken seemed all too eager to indulge, waiting until the girl was right upon her before squawking up a storm and running away again. 

The sight caused Shane to smile- a feeling that he was becoming more and more used to the longer he spent around the farmer- and he squeezed her hand gently before nudging her shoulder with his. “Hey, last minute wedding planning.” He began, bringing her out of her reverie with a curious hum.

“Please don’t tell me you’re rearranging decorations again-”

“No, no, nothing like that. But I just want you to know, when I die, you should turn me into fertiliser for the chicken feed.” He deadpanned, unable to stop an apologetic chuckle from escaping him as the farmer startled into an upright position, eyes searching his face for a moment before she relaxed. 

“Shane,” she laughed, shaking her head slightly as her hands moved to cup his face, thumbs brushing over the small smile lines that crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

He opened his mouth as if to retort- either to her statement or in protest of the dirt now on his cheeks- but she silenced him by leaning forward to press a kiss against his lips, and all rational thought evaporated as the sun broke through the clouds, the light of a thousand stars spilling out and into his soul.

~~

Shane let out a quiet grunt as he lowered himself down onto the porch swing, keeping a watchful eye over the animals that he had let out to graze. The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon, tickling the birds awake and washing over the crops with a beautiful honeyed light. If he squinted hard enough he could just make out his goddaughter crouched amongst the trellises, happily reading one of her favourite picture books to their dog. It was one of those mornings where everything was tranquil- drowsy, even- a languid sort of peace that radiates calm throughout the rest of the day. It was the kind of morning he found himself drawn to now that he wasn’t sleeping through them or drowning his hours at the Stardrop.

The creak of the front door roused him from his idle musings and his wife- he still stumbled over calling her that- stepped out to sit next to him, taking his spare hand in her own as easy as breathing, the casualness of it making his lungs ache. Love and thankfulness for her curled like vines around his ribs, making a home out of his beating heart, and he once again found himself silently thanking her for providing him with the idyllic life he had always craved but never thought he would deserve.

And yet here he was, the sun gilding the farm around him, his own personal paradise. Somewhere nearby a songbird sweetly heralded the beginning of a new day. His wife laughed as Jas squealed up a storm while their dog rained affection on her face.

This was the soundtrack he wanted to spend the rest of his life to.

And he would stay here, by her side for as long as she would have him, singing her praises until the day he was returned to the earth.

_No grave can hold my body down_

_I’ll crawl home to her_.

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine suggested this idea to me and I literally could not rest until it was written everyone say thank you mercibun


End file.
